


Restless Bitch Face

by CatKing_Catkin



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Bonding, Comfort Food, Comfort No Hurt, Fans Behaving Badly, Fluff, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Insults, Introspection, Minor Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky, Otabek Altin & Yuri Plisetsky Are Best Friends, POV Yuri Plisetsky, Post-Series, Protective Yuri Plisetsky, Short One Shot, Swearing, Yuri Plisetsky is a Brat, could be shippy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-11-01 21:18:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10930233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatKing_Catkin/pseuds/CatKing_Catkin
Summary: Written in response to a request for "Yurio & Otabek friendship things" on tumblr. Takes place a couple of years after the end of Season 1.As far as Yuri Plisetsky is concerned, Otabek Altin is practically perfect in every way that counts. Anyone who disagrees can shut the fuck up and sit the fuck down. If he has to interrupt an autograph session to make sure people know this, then so much the better. It just means they can head out to dinner that much faster.





	Restless Bitch Face

Yuri Plisetsky had a decent grasp of English. It was certainly better than his grasp of Japanese, Korean, Italian, Chinese, Spanish, or Thai. Most of the skaters in any given competition could meet in the middle to at least some degree with English. So learning had been necessary.

His grasp of English was definitely better than his grasp of Kazakh. But that was okay because Otabek’s grasp of Russian was better than either. So it was easy to speak freely with him, in more ways than one. Not to mention that it was just fun to chat back and forth with him and watch the blank looks on everyone’s faces. It made Yuri feel like the language he’d grown up with was something exclusive, secret. Something that only Otabek was cool enough to understand.

Yuri Plisetsky’s decent grasp of English did not include a decent grasp of English slang. Insults, yes, fine. He always wanted a way to make sure people he disliked knew that he disliked them. But slang was another story. This fact was driven home to him quite clearly one day, when he had been dragged into signing autographs for his fans after his free program performance in the Ice Star competition. As he signed and smiled and recited the lines that old hag Lilia had made him memorize, Yuri was nevertheless aware all the while that he was keeping Otabek waiting. Not that you’d ever know the other boy was impatient. He could see his friend out of the corner of his eye, leaning against the wall and staring at nothing very much in that calm, peaceful way he had.

Of course, his fans couldn’t help but notice the way Yuri kept glancing back to check on Otabek. He heard them twitter and giggle and that was fine. He was getting used to that. A few of them even started whispering about his friend and that was _less fine_ , but he just tuned them out and focused on getting through it and…

_“Talk about resting bitch face.”_

Later on he would think on what “resting” had to do with any of it. But he could recognize the insult inherent in the word “bitch” well enough.

Yuri’s head snapped up, glaring fiercely. His gaze cut through the crowd like a laser until he identified the culprits. It was easy – a man and his girlfriend, standing somewhere at the edge of the throng. It was easy because it had been the man who’d spoken, though his girlfriend was laughing. He tended not to attract a lot of male fans, and Yuri was suddenly grateful for that if it meant he wouldn’t keep having to rip heads off like he was about to do.

“What the hell did you just say?!” He pointed through the crowd at the jerk. “You!” The jerk looked around, confused and alarmed, so Yuri snarled for good measure: “Yes _you!_ With the stupid hat and the bitch face! What the fuck did you just say about my friend, you asshole?!”

The fucker tried to deny it. The crowd parted before Yuri like wheat before the scythe as he stalked forward, grabbed the man, and yelled at him until he agreed to apologize to Otabek just in exchange for being allowed to run away with his girlfriend. Yuri stood right there while he did so, and then screamed after the couple as they retreated. “And teach your man some manners!”

No one really seemed up for autographs after that. Which was fine by Yuri. He’d catch it from Lilia later, but he could always placate her with a gold medal tomorrow. He leaned against the wall next to Otabek as the crowd dispersed, and scowled at the place where the asshole had been.

“What was that about?” Otabek asked, sounding blank, when they were more or less alone.

“Stupid man running his mouth,” Yuri grumbled. “Moron. Saying you had ‘resting bitch face’.”

“‘Resting bitch…’?”

“…I don’t know what it means, either,” Yuri finally admitted. “But I didn’t like the sound of it. And when I don’t like the sound of something, people are gonna know it. At least until my fans start behaving better than fucking _JJ’s._ ” He pushed himself off from the wall and jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “I’m hungry. Are you hungry?”

Otabek was hungry, so the two of them set off for the restaurant together.

“You really didn’t have to make such a scene,” Otabek commented lightly, a block later. “He wasn’t worth it.”

 _You are_ , Yuri thought stubbornly to himself. Out loud, he said: “He had to _know_ he wasn’t worth it. So I told him.” He tilted his head to grin fiercely at the other boy. “I thought you liked that I was a fighter. I gotta find some way to keep my edge until Katsuki’s back on the ice.”

Otabek looked back and offered one of his rare smiles in turn. “Then far be it from me to hold you back.” He reached out to shove Yuri lightly in the shoulder. Yuri laughed and shoved him back. “Blaze your own trail ahead, as you always have.”

“You’re not doing so bad yourself. Three points off from me today, huh? Almost seems like you want to shove me off that podium.” He still wasn’t quite tall enough to put an arm around Otabek’s shoulders without standing on tiptoes. Yuri stood on tiptoes anyway, walking along for a little bit on the balls of his feet. It made for a nice break from walking on his toes. “The valiant Hero of Kazakhstan, slaying the Ice Tiger of Russia! Grr!”

Otabek wasn’t much for laughing. But he chuckled at that, ducking his head. Otabek didn’t take up much space in general. He took up exactly as much as he needed to, and that was part of why Yuri liked him so much. And why he would fight off any goatfucking shitheels who tried to intrude on that space.

The restaurant they’d planned on going to was full. But that worked out for the best, in a way. It gave Yuri a chance to pass over his grandfather’s latest _pirozhki_ experiment – these were stuffed with _kazy_. He’d read once that Kazakh cuisine was meant to last through a nomadic lifestyle. That was certainly something Otabek had kept to for most of his life. So if Yuri could bring him a little bit of home on the road, well…it was worth it for a friend.

They sat and ate them on a bench at the edge of Čaliuskincaŭ Park, as the sun set and the lights of the amusement park came to life in the distance.


End file.
